


I Love You and I Like You

by grapehyasynth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kids being cute, Quality Time, but they also have some real talk?, everyone is safe and things are good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6515581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma wants to try something with Fitz - and no, it's not what you think. :) </p><p>I already posted this on Tumblr but now I have an AO3 account, so this is my first work! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You and I Like You

It had been weeks since the last report of a new Inhuman, weeks without Hydra attacks or vigilante kidnappings or governmental meddling. The counters in the medical bay were showing dust for the first time that anyone could remember. The team knew the calm couldn’t last, but as far as Coulson could gather from his remaining network of contacts, there was no reason to believe that the lull was anything but coincidental.

A fragile, blissful stillness, like that of Christmas morning, cloaked the Playground. May and Coulson still haunted the gym and Coulson’s office, sometimes together, sometimes in brittle silent isolation, but the hallways were empty, the younger agents having retreated to their bunks, afraid to breathe for fear this calm would end.

Jemma and Fitz lay tangled together in Fitz’s room, (or was it Jemma’s? They could hardly remember anymore), fully clothed, Jemma’s head resting on Fitz’s chest and a hand moving idly across his stomach. Fitz gazed up at the ceiling as his own hand, the one whose cramps and shaking normally betrayed his anxiety, rested between Jemma’s shoulder blades.

Loathe to break the silence, Jemma craned her head up to look at Fitz. “Fitz?”

He hummed in response, absentmindedly pressing a kiss to her forehead, mind clearly elsewhere.

“Fitz, there’s something I’d like to try.”

He finally looked at her, eyes wide. “Wha– right now? Jemma, I just ate –”

“Not that, you pervert-”

“I’m the pervert? Have you forgotten about last night? Was I imagining things again? Because I’m pretty sure –”

“Just because I am on average more likely to initiate sex does not mean it’s the only thing I’m thinking about –”

“Well, seeing as there’s no existing technology to verify that statement, I’d have to say you’re a liar, Jemma Simmons. A liar and a pervert.”

“Can you please be serious for just one moment?” She huffed out a breath, and Fitz quickly stilled. If Jemma was this anxious about saying something, he knew it must mean a lot to her.

She looked away from his gaze, speaking slowly as if testing the words. “I just – so much of our friendship, and now, our relationship, has been built, at least on the surface, on this, this kind of bickering – I mean, you’re incredibly supportive and there’s no one I’d rather have by my side, but while constructive criticisms are necessary in a lab, I thought, maybe, we should try vocalizing positivity.”

“And when did you become a Buddhist?”

“That’s not even – Fitz, I’m serious.”

He was silent for so long that Jemma’s hand fisted convulsively in his T-shirt.

“It’s a daft idea, I knew it, forget I mentioned it.”

“No, it’s not daft,” Fitz said slowly. “I’m just trying to imagine what a compliment would sound like coming out of your mouth.”

“You are the most insufferable-”

“I like your hands,” Fitz blurted out.

Jemma sighed against his neck in relief, then squirmed back into place against him. “I like your eyes. They’re quite blue.”

“You know, I never noticed that before,” Fitz mused, completely deadpan.

“I’m trying to be nice to you, Leopold -”

“All right, all right. I like… Hmm. I’m afraid I’m plum out of ideas. No, wait – I like your smile. Yes. All of your smiles, actually, and how each one is completely different. I like thinking I’m the only one who understands them all. See, that one there,” he said, touching her nose with his finger, “is your ‘God-I-can’t-believe-how-perfect-Fitz-is’ smile.”

Jemma rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth down. “Well, I like your little sleeping face. I’m completely serious,” she laughed as Fitz grumbled to himself. “Your mouth always falls open – like this –” She did a truly terrible impression. “–and you look completely ridiculous. It’s completely adorable.”

Fitz closed one eye in thought. “Erm… I like your… teeth?”

Jemma laughed and swatted his chest. “Fitz! It doesn’t all have to be physical.”

“Okay, okay.” He blew out a long breath. “I liiiiike… how excited you get about science.”

“Even the gross icky parts?”

“Even the most drippy, gooey, nasty smelly parts. Doesn’t mean I’ll be joining you for a dissection anytime soon, but to each his or her own.”

“And I like when you become so absorbed in something that you forget to eat. Not that I want to encourage your already horrendous dietary habits, but… it’s cute.”

“I am cute, thank you for noticing, Jemma dearest.” Fitz tried to flex his chest muscles but there was so little there that it just set Jemma off laughing. Which, all things considered, was a decent result anyway. When she was reduced to occasional giggles, he continued, “I like that you always know the words I’m looking for. Especially since my brain stopped working-”

“I’m glad you can’t always find the words. We don’t just compliment each other, we also complement each other.”

“We’re smarter together.”

“Exactly.”

Fitz nudged her head with his shoulder. “Your go.”

“I like your taste in music.”

“What?!” Fitz pulled back, a look of exaggerated shock on his face. “I distinctly remember you saying at the Academy, and I quote, ‘Leopold, how you think you have a chance in hell of graduating when all you listen to is Bon Jovi and Swedish grunge–”

“It grew on me, all right? It’s weird, like you. The grunge comes with you, so I’ve learned to enjoy it.”

This was getting a little too genuine, so Fitz jumped in, “I like your…sandwiches.”

They both laughed, Fitz’s chuckles a gentle rumble under Jemma’s arm.

“Well I like your appetite.”

“Which one?”

“Fitz,” Jemma groaned, making as if to roll away from him. He caught her with both arms and scooted closer to her.

“I like that my name means something different every time you say it.”

Fitz could feel Jemma’s lips curve up where they pressed against his collarbone.

“I like your bravery,” she said softly. “Even if it usually puts you in situations I’d rather you not have to deal with.”

Fitz scoffed. “Jemma, I’m afraid of everything.”

“Be that as it may, you still joined this team–”

“At your prodding-”

“–and stood up to John Garrett and tried to sacrifice yourself for me and defied your own brain injury and stood by Skye when no one else would and attacked a monolith which you knew for a fact to be dangerous-”

“Jemma-”

“-My point is, Fitz, if it weren’t hard it wouldn’t require bravery. You’re scared of all those things and you do them anyway. Though I do prefer it when you right stay here with me.”

Fitz was silent for a moment, gently running a hand over Jemma’s hair as she snuggled further up under his chin. They were definitely in different territory now, as seemed to be happening with alarming acceleration with every day, but the prospect was exhilarating rather than terrifying.

“I like your patience,” he said at last. “I think it lets me feel like, I don’t know, I can go off the handle and throw things if I need to, because you’ll be there no matter what, ready to talk things through.”

Jemma thought for a second, then laughed. “I actually really like arguing with you. Bickering, I should say, not – um –”

“Whatever it was we did last year,” he murmured into her hair. There were still some things they working through.

“I like how easily you can talk about what you feel,” Jemma said quietly. “I don’t know why but I’ve never quite been able to figure that one out. If either of my degrees were in human psychology I suppose I would postulate that it was a defense mechanism developed while growing up basically the only woman in a field of men, but that might be overly simplistic.”

“I like how you can’t go a conversation without mentioning your two damn degrees,” Fitz whispered teasingly.

“That’s it, game over!” Before he could move Jemma had scrambled out of his arms and was pulling her shoes on.

Fitz sat up quickly to bring himself level with her. “Oh, come on, Jemma, I was only joking–”

She finished tying her boots carefully, back to him, before turning around. She was grinning cheekily. “You’re too easy.”

“That’s not – that’s not funny – You’re making me feel like I’m walking on eggshells–”

“I love you. You know that, right?” Her voice was steady and her gaze abruptly intense but a deep blush in her cheeks and ears betrayed her nerves. They hadn’t said this out loud, not in so many words.

“I do,” Fitz murmured, surprised, terrified, thrilled to find that he wasn’t lying.

“I love you and I like you,” she said gently, entwining their hands. “Every oddity, every absurdity. I don’t think you could do anything that would change that, short of becoming a Hydra spy or being possessed by Hive – Not even then, I think.”

“It would make things a little awkward around the base, though, wouldn’t it, if I were Hive?”

“Coulson might not be too keen on that, true.”

Fitz leaned his head forward onto Jemma’s shoulder, feeling simultaneously acutely vulnerable and safe. Jemma scooted forward onto the bed, wrapping her arms around his back so that he could rest more comfortably against her.

“Let’s play this game more often, yeah?” Fitz mumbled into her hair. “Though I bet we could actually make it into a competition, with points and everything –”

“Fitz!”

“I don’t even have to look up, I know that’s your ‘Fitz-is-being-ridiculous-but-I-love-it’ smile.”

“I take it back! I take it ALL back! Your eyes are the ugliest blue I’ve ever seen, I hope you starve to death while you work on your stupid projects, I’m never making you a sandwich again-”

“Oh!” Fitz jerked up, almost knocking Jemma’s chin. “We still haven’t had a chance to test the food processor since–”

“–Since you designed those new blades to better chop the basil–”

“Drastically altering the consumer’s experience with the pesto aioli.”

Jemma popped up off the bed, offering her hand to Fitz. “I believe it’s time to change the taste of sandwiches forever, Chef Fitz.”

“I dare say you’re right, Chef Simmons,” Fitz intoned in a deep, terrible English accent.

“You know, I would not be opposed to starting a food truck someday,” Jemma said thoughtfully as she shut the door behind her. “They’re quite fashionable.”

“Tell Coulson it’s for an undercover op, he loves those.”

They strolled off down the hallway toward the kitchen, linked hands swinging between them.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written fanfiction in at least seven years and this one goes on FOREVER, and no one proofread it for me and it’s surprisingly hard to write Fitz because I can’t hear his accent in my head… Anyway, hope there was something in here worth reading. :)
> 
> I'm grapehyasynth on Tumblr! Come find me!


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